A Deer in the Headlights
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "He'd put everything he had into those two. He had protected them like they were his own. Hell, even loved them like they were his own. And now they were gone. They weren't his anymore. Maybe they'd never been his in the first place…"


**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its character, wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** A Shane one shot. I am focusing on Shane's character from season one, episode three onward. – Contains some allusions to season two events but with no major/clear spoilers. *Rated for language and allusions to the shower scene with Lori in Season one, so I am warning for possible non-con leanings just to be safe.

**A Deer in the Headlights**

There was a tattoo of a name on his chest. He kept it there as a reminder, long after those perfect brown eyes and honey-blond curls had walked out of his life for good. A reminder that nothing in life was ever a given. That nothing was set. Nothing was permanent or even _forever_. Not even when there was a sparkly ring around some pretty little thing's finger and a credit card bill that would have probably given his old man a heart attack if he'd still been alive to see it.

And once again, life had seen fit to prove him right. Because he'd be damned if Rick hadn't unfolded himself from the front seat of that van... Long legs stretchin' out, all slow and restless, boot soles scuffing against the loose gravel the same way he always did, especially when something was weighing heavy on his mind.

_He felt like he'd been sucker punched in the gut._

Panic, joy, confusion, anger, and horror… Each emotion had made its mark as they'd met eyes. And it killed him somewhere deep inside to realize that the only thing he saw reflected in Rick's gaze, long before he'd even _seen_ Lori or Carl, was bliss. _Plain and simple._ Unable to do anything else but watch as that rising spark of tentative euphoria had smouldered to life in the back of those unfathomable blue eyes - his own emotions rising as he'd nearly choked on his own spit. Standing there, all slack jawed and disbelieving as his hand had tightened around his Mossberg. The action reflexive and thoughtless as a hundred and one different emotions threatened to unman him completely.

And he just didn't know how to deal with it. With the fact that Rick was just so god damned _happy _to see him. After everything that'd happened, everything he'd done, everything that Rick didn't know – the man had just smiled. Words of thanks tripping from his lips with excitement and relief as he'd grasped his hand and pulled him close.

But even then, he'd figured that he probably wouldn't have to. Because right from that very first moment he'd known that it was all over. Him. Lori. Carl. _Everything. _Everything they'd built, everything they'd slowly been working towards had just been summarily _destroyed _by a man he'd thought was long dead.

…_And even then, as early as it was, he couldn't help but feel that his life was just that much more over because of it…_

It had only gotten worse from there. Because nowadays he felt like he was carrying around a gut full of time sensitive grenades. The lot of them hissing and bubbling in the pit of his stomach, rising up in his throat with the thickness of bile as metallic acid scored against his stomach lining. It made him feel a lot like he was five seconds away from just blowing up and taking every last one of them with him. Five seconds away from ending everything.

Because he remembered how it had all happened. He could see it as plain as day in the back of his mind, playing out behind his lids every time he closed his god damned eyes. Reeling back again and again until it was all he could think about. He breathed it in, drowning in it. Dying inside just a little bit more as every day hit its peak, and _nothing_ had changed. He was _still_ alone. And he just _couldn't_ do it anymore.

After all, it'd been_ Lori_ that had come to _him… _She'd taken his arm on the third night. Seventy two hours after Rick had been admitted, her hands butter soft and warm. Promising things he could barely comprehend as he sat there, prone and empty in that stupid, over stuffed chair he'd dragged all the way from the visitors lounge to Rick's bedside. He'd been there almost straight through, only leaving long enough to file an incident report and grab a few hours of sleep at home before he found himself abusing whatever pull he could from the badge attached to his belt buckle as he stood vigil. Letting Lori go home and get some sleep, to tend to Carl or whatever it was that she needed to do. He was there. There for her, there for Rick. They took care of each other; they always had, ever since their first day on the force. Their first day in high school…you name it.

Back then there hadn't been anything he wouldn't have done for that man…

And he'd intended to do the same that night as well. To keep vigil and let Lori go home and get some rest. But she wouldn't hear of it. In fact she'd dragged him home with her, sitting him down and feeding him till he doubted he'd_ ever_ be hungry again before she ushered him into the shower. Barely giving him a moment to think it through as she'd handed him a change of Rick's clothes and directed him to the living room couch with a determined hand. The sheets and comforters already pulled back for him as she'd all but tucked him in herself.

And to be honest, he'd been so out of it that he'd fallen asleep before he could even realize how uncomfortable that damn couch actually was. But despite it all, he hadn't gone home for anything more than to pick a few changes of clothes and his work things after that.

_Truth be told she'd made it easy_.

They'd been there for each other back then. There for Carl. Leaning on each other unabashedly, _unashamedly_, as Rick had started getting worse rather than better. And the doctors had grown frown lines in place of those infuriatingly tentative smiles.

Then the world had gone and ended on them._ Again._ And in the end, he'd been there when the infection had overrun their town. There to keep her safe, _t__hem safe._ - And ironically, everything else that had followed as they'd fallen together down that slippery slope that existed somewhere in between right and wrong, had somehow seemed only natural. …Right in a way he could neither figure out nor define.

At least he'd thought it'd been, that Lori and him had-…Shit.

How do you tell your partner, your best friend, your _brother_, that you'd made his woman your own? That you'd come to love his boy the same way that his father did? That you'd even been looking towards the future, unconsciously entertaining the idea of little clothes, baby bottles, and diapers? _Craved it even_.

Christ, life had gotten so fucked up…

He'd put everything he had into those to. He'd protected them like they were his own. Hell, even_ loved_ them like they were his own. And now they were gone. They weren't his anymore. Maybe they'd never been his in the first place…Lori had never said-.. But it didn't matter. They were gone, and now he was left with nothing._ Just like everyone else._

Because now he couldn't help but look at the both of them and see a loss. As something that had festered, and gone wrong. Like a wound that wouldn't mend, a tear, a sore. As just another impossibility. And like a limb that had become diseased, infected, he saw only one option. He had to rid himself of it. He had to suck out the poison and bring down the band saw for the betterment of the whole.

_He knew what he had to do._

Because he was beginning to think that maybe it was time that he started off on his own. To _make_ something of his own… a _family._ Something that was his and his alone, something that could be good, sane, and tangible… Something that was _his_ right down to the make up of the cells and the contented smiles of a well satisfied woman, something that he could hold, touch, and love.

_Something that was worth living for._

And that day was coming, coming along faster than he cared to admit if he was be honest. Because he couldn't take this, this wound…this _hole._ Not anymore. Some days he wasn't sure if _he_ was the one going crazy, or the only one left among them that was still halfway sane. Somewhere along the line it had become almost impossible to tell.

He knew that Rick wouldn't understand it. Not at first. Maybe he'd even try to stop him as he left, or come after him if he slipped away in the dead of night. He wondered if Lori would ever tell him. He wondered what it meant if she didn't. He wondered if _he__'d_ meant anything to her. He thought they'd had something - something good, something that was worth saving.

_And now he felt unstable. Different… Wrong. _

A tremble coursed through him as he pushed the feeling back. _Something..._ He thought he'd had that with Lori and Carl. But he'd been wrong. Somewhere along the line he'd miscalculated. Betting all his chips on one horse and lost it all. And with that loss, everything else had followed. He'd lost control. Gone and done something he'd beaten and arrested other men for. Something he'd told himself he'd never do… that he _could_ never do. Yet somehow he'd gone and done it anyway. He hadn't been able to hold it back. Somewhere along the line he had lost himself.

_He'd disgusted himself. And now he had to live with it, with what he'd done._

He wondered what'd happened to him. He'd never seen himself as a bad man, perhaps not a particularly stunning example of what he could've been, but certainly not a bad one. Besides… Good? Bad? It was all subjective these days. It was like treading water in molasses. Getting you a whole lot of _no where_ pretty damn fast.

He wondered if they would forgive him, if they _could_ forgive him.

But most of all, he wondered if he could find it in him to forgive himself…

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><p><strong>AN:** Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love!

"_If you're going through hell, keep going."_ ~ Winston Churchill.


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